Full Circle
by kaly
Summary: Everything comes back to the beginning in the end. Tenth in a series, Brothers' Bond, about Ron and Charlie.


Title: Full Circle Author: kaly   
Rating: K+   
Category: short story, angst, character death   
Spoilers: vague spoilers for the various books.  
Series: Brothers' Bond Timeframe: Ron's 47. Charlie's 57.  
Summary: Everything comes back to the beginning in the end. 

Thank you: To geminigrl11 for the beta. :)

Notes: Tenth in a series (of ten), Brothers' Bond, focused around Ron and Charlie. In it, Charlie is ten years older than Ron. Becomes AU after GoF canon.

Previous stories in the series:  
#1 - The Path of Thorns   
#2 - The Lesson of Loss   
#3 - Watching Over You   
#4 - It's Never Easy   
#5 - Holiday Cheer   
#6 - Solace   
#7 - Stormy Weather   
#8 - A Reason for Hope   
#9 - Better Luck Next Year

Disclaimer: JKR. Scholastic. WB. Their toys, I'm just borrowing the guys, I promise! Besides, I'd use Charlie more if they were mine. ;)

Full Circle

"I held you the day you were born."

Ron blinked, not so much surprised by the random comment as the raspy voice. He had thought Charlie to be sleeping.

"You did?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Charlie nodded, or at least tried. His head had barely moved before he closed his eyes and clenched his lips shut. The spell passed a moment later and his eyes opened once more. They were tired, dull - no longer were they the brilliant green Ron remembered from their youth.

"You were so tiny," Charlie said, the faintest smile lifting his lips. "I was so scared I'd break you."

Ron tried to laugh. Such a thing was absurd after all - Charlie was never scared of anything. He never had been, as far as Ron was concerned.

"Charlie..."

Charlie's smile deepened for a moment, his eyes brightening. "Even after the others, you were different." He struggled to breathe around the words, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"Hush, now, Charlie," Ron said, placing his hand over his brother's. "You should rest."

"No."

The whisper was so soft that Ron almost missed it. He might have, had he not been holding his breath. Chewing on his lower lip, a habit from childhood he had never quite shaken, Ron let the breath out slowly.

"Please rest, Charlie. You'll feel better if you do."

Ron ignored the fact his hand was shaking as he reached over to brush a lock of hair from Charlie's forehead. When the sweat-sodden strands clung to the skin, Ron retrieved a damp cloth that lay in a bowl beside the bed. He moved mechanically, long since familiar with the motions.

Charlie leaned into the cool touch as he ran the cloth lightly over his forehead, across his cheeks and down his throat. Ron was torn when Charlie's eyes fell closed. It was true that Charlie needed rest but Ron feared that each time might be the last.

Dropping the towel onto the table, Ron closed his eyes and sagged forward. He covered his eyes with his hands and dug the heels into them. He couldn't remember the last time he slept and although exhaustion tore at him, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Straightening, he leaned back in his chair, arms falling limply at his sides.

So many memories had visited him in the days he had sat vigil with his brother. Times gone past, many long forgotten, had replayed in his mind over and over. They were bittersweet, the happy and the sad, all in the midst of an unavoidable fate.

Ron stared at Charlie, unblinking, for several moments before turning his gaze to the ceiling and the night sky which stared back at him. It was a simple charm, one that Harry had performed early on in their vigil. Not so spectacular as the hall at Hogwarts, it nonetheless gave Charlie something to gaze on in the times he was awake. That those times were growing shorter and further apart... Ron was doing his best to ignore that.

He stood, his back protesting the movement. Age was catching up to him, too, he knew. His days of running from one adventure to another were past - no matter if he wished otherwise in the late hours of twilight. And if he might forget, on purpose or no, it took but a look at his beloved brother to remember.

Crossing the room, his bare feet silent on the smooth floor, Ron looked out across the familiar landscape that lay outside the Burrow. Charlie had surprised them all by returning home after their parents had passed. That he had already been past the age most dragon tamers retired was left unspoken.

Staring down into the garden, not nearly so pristine as it had been under their mum's hand, Ron felt the familiar stir of loss. It was a distant loss, one made easier to bear by the passage of the years, even if it would never completely fade.

Their parents. Time and age had seen them onward, a peaceful passing for each. Pressing his forehead against the glass, Ron wished, for the millionth time in twenty years, that Percy and Bill had been so fortunate. The Weasleys had not escaped the victory over Voldemort unscathed.

Even after so long, the name still stuck on Ron's tongue.

It had been hard on all of them, their parents especially so, losing Percy early on and Bill during one of the final battles. Bill had been far from home - as safe as one could have been at the time - but safe or no, he was a Weasley. And when times had grown dark, he had returned home.

At those thoughts, as he so often did, Ron turned to look at Charlie. It had been Charlie who consoled him, even amid his own grief. Charlie had held him as he cried when the guilt of surviving weighed far too heavily on his shoulders. Even Harry didn't know how greatly his brothers' deaths tore at him.

A stuttering sigh drew Ron from his dark thoughts. He held his breath, waiting to hear if Charlie drew another, only letting it go when he did. It was something of a ritual, a superstition he had acquired. Charlie would continue to breathe if Ron refused to do so in the meantime. It was childish, but Ron was beyond caring.

Distracted, he jumped when the door swung open. Looking up quickly, he saw Ginny standing just inside the room, staring at him. Without word or thought, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm glad you're here," he whispered against her hair.

He felt her nod against his chest. She was silent for a moment, quiet breathing the only sound in the room. Then Ginny's shoulders began to shake and Ron could feel the warmth of tears through his shirt. Holding her tighter, he shut his eyes against his own tears. He couldn't - wouldn't - cry.

"I know," he said unsteadily, next to her ear.

His sister swallowed audibly, struggling for breath. "How is he?" she asked, pulling far enough away he could see her face.

Ron glanced across the room to Charlie. His features were pale, save for the dark smudges beneath his eyes. He knew Ginny wasn't asking for specifics - she knew what was happening. What her eyes seemed to be begging for, some kind of reassurance, was something he couldn't give.

"He's tired."

Ginny wiped her hand across her cheeks, sniffling softly. Pulling away from Ron, she shook her head. "He's too young for this."

Looking at Charlie, oddly unable to look at Ginny, Ron shook his head. He felt helpless. "You know he's not." The clinical truth rattled off his tongue, even if his heart railed.

She turned on him, her eyes bright with more unshed tears and a brief flare of defiance. "He's not even sixty, Ron," she said quietly.

Stepping forward, Ron placed his hands on her shoulders and he nodded. "I know. But... He's known for a while, Gin. The dragons, it... happens."

"Curse every dragon on earth," she spat. "If weren't for them..."

"If weren't for them," Ron interrupted, managing to sound far calmer than he felt. He pulled Ginny into another embrace, pressing his cheek against the top of her head. "If weren't for them, Charlie wouldn't be Charlie." A single tear managed to break away from his eye as he looked at his sleeping brother. "He loves them," he whispered more to himself than her.

"Why didn't you send word sooner?" she asked several minutes later.

"He asked me not to."

"And you listened to him?" she asked, her voice made hard by hurt.

"He didn't even want me here, Ginny." Ron shook his head, moving away. "I had a bad feeling. I knew something wasn't right, even though he insisted everything was fine."

She nodded, wrapping her arms across her chest. "Harry told me a bit, downstairs." Taking a deep breath, Ginny stared at Charlie and Ron in turn. "The twins?"

"On their way."

"When?"

Although her question should have been obvious, Ron realized he wasn't certain what she was asking. When would the twins arrive? When would Charlie... He shook his head against the thought. Ginny looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Soon." He refused to consider which he was answering, either... or both.

Although they had been speaking in whispers the entire time, Charlie began to stir. Ron hurried forward, cursing himself for not going into the hallway to speak with Ginny. It was selfish, really, staying in the room. Charlie needed to rest but Ron hated to leave for any longer than necessary. Even Harry had given up asking days earlier.

"Charlie?" Ron asked softly, taking a clammy hand within his own. With the other he brushed Charlie's forehead softly.

Groggy eyes opened slowly, blinking several times before they found their focus. "Hi." It was more air than voice but Ron smiled all the same.

"Hi."

He blinked quickly, trying to make his faint smile a bit brighter. Taking a glass from the table he helped Charlie to drink. The motions were oddly familiar, not only from the past days but from years before. Pushing the memory aside, Ron said, "Look who's here." He stepped to the side so that Charlie could see Ginny.

She stepped forward and Ron could see the tears that filled her eyes even as she struggled to force a smile. "Charlie," she whispered, laying her hand on his other arm. Her voice was choked and she didn't say anything more.

Long seconds passed as Charlie stared at his sister. Ron saw the pain blossom in Charlie's eyes but it was quickly obscured by a resigned happiness. "Hi, baby girl."

Ginny laughed, a short burst of sound at the old nickname. "Hardly a baby anymore." She coughed and Ron knew her to be fighting more tears. "My own aren't even babies anymore."

Charlie smiled, raising his hand just off the bed until Ginny took it. "Always the baby to us."

Ron saw her bite her bottom lip when she nodded. She held Charlie's hand against her chest, but didn't answer.

Ron flinched at a commotion, albeit a quiet one, in the hallway. His gaze immediately went to Charlie's face. His brother was looking at him with concerned eyes but the twins entered the room before Ron could turn to see what had happened. His heart clenched at seeing them - it had been some months since they'd last been together and he was relieved at their arrival.

"Charlie?" Fred asked in a low voice. His eyes were wide as saucers.

"Still here," Charlie whispered, his voice long grown weak.

"Ron?" George asked, his expression matching Fred's.

Ron tried to smile but failed miserably. "Still here."

He turned his attention back to Charlie, the question 'For how long?' hanging in the air between them unspoken.

* * *

They sat with Charlie, who dozed fitfully off and on, while they caught up on happenings old and new alike. News faded into stories, stories into memories. Ginny had fallen asleep in the chair sometime before dawn. The twins, curled on the floor beneath the window, not much later. 

When the sun rose outside, Ron alone remained awake. The ceiling above mirrored the dawn in muted shades of pink and gold but they brought Ron no cheer. The feeling that had bid him to visit the Burrow in the first place was pounding in his chest, aching.

_Too soon_ a voice inside him clamored with childlike insistence.

So as dawn faded into day, birds singing quietly outside to welcome the sun, Ron climbed into the bed beside his brother. It reminded him of the times Charlie had done the same, helping to vanquish his nightmares in the wee hours of the night. How many times had he fallen asleep as a child, wrapped safe in his brother's arms?

Ever so carefully, Ron repositioned them so that Charlie was lying against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Charlie's shoulders and took an unsteady breath. He was scared to blink. He couldn't breathe.

"Ron?"

Surprised by the weak voice, Ron fought the urge to hold on too tightly. "I'm here."

He felt Charlie nod, if such a small motion could be called a nod. "I know."

Ron wanted - needed - to say something to make sure Charlie knew how important he was. Anything. Everything. But words failed him, although his mouth opened and closed and opened again.

Charlie took a breath and once more Ron held his own. Exhaling, Charlie asked, "Do you know how much I love you, little brother?"

Ron bit his lip until he tasted blood, staring upward at the sky. His heart hammered in his chest and all the air rushed out of him. The tears that had threatened for so long brimmed in his eyes. He almost sobbed.

"Always," he managed some moments later, the word tearing painfully from his throat. Ron pressed his cheek to the top of Charlie's head as his tears finally broke free. "You can't go," he whispered, begging. "Please don't leave me."

"I'm sorry."

Some part of Ron realized then that his other siblings had woken and were kneeling beside the bed. He felt George's hand on his arm. He heard Ginny's tears. He saw Fred's pain-filled face. But he ignored them all. Everything he was, all that he had, was focused on Charlie.

"Please." He closed his eyes, giving in to the sobs. "I love you."

Ron heard Charlie sigh softly and felt him relax against him. He knew when it happened, when his beloved older brother slipped away. Not by the sounds of Ginny's sobs or the quieter tears of the twins.

He felt it.

* * *

Days later, for the first time since coming home, Ron found himself drawn to the grove. It was something he shared with Charlie and he had shied away with everything that had happened but in the end it had called to him. He was sitting there, curled into himself and wedged against the base of a tree, when Harry found him. 

"Ron?" Harry asked quietly, sitting beside him.

"I'm okay," Ron whispered, leaning into Harry's side.

Harry wrapped an arm around him and Ron laid his head on Harry's shoulder. "Please don't."

Realizing what Harry was saying, Ron sighed. "I will be. In time."

Ron clenched his fist, gripping the object hidden within so tightly his knuckles were white. Harry's fingers ghosted over Ron's until he loosened his grip. His fingers pulled back, revealing the muted green stone within. Ron heard Harry's quiet gasp when he recognized the Dragon's Eye.

"Yours?" Harry asked.

Ron shook his head. "Charlie's half. He gave it to me to remember..." Choking back the tears that never seemed far away, he suddenly recalled Charlie's odd comment. Ron's soft smile contrasted the tears in his eyes.

"He held me when I was born." His voice was hushed, the tears beginning to fall once more, burning his cheeks. Ron pressed his face into Harry's shirt and felt him hold onto him even more tightly.

"And I held him when he died."

End


End file.
